Chapter 37

It was more of a relief to be away from Pemberley than Elizabeth had expected. As much as she did not want to admit it, she felt a powerful and uncomfortable tether connecting her to Mr Darcy, and being in such close proximity to Miss Darcy was confusing and distressing. It was apparent the young lady was deeply unwell, which made Elizabeth long to help her, but she did not know how.

Which is the dilemma Mr Darcy and his family have faced all these months.The experience allowed her to better appreciate why he was adamant about doing whatever brought his sister a measure of relief. He was an excellent brother and was understandably protective of her fragile well-being. Elizabeth would expect nothing less of him. His caring nature was one of the reasons she loved him as much as she did.

Bingley estimated that they would need to spend two or three days in Buxton. That morning, Elizabeth decided to stay at the inn while Jane and Bingley went to view Larch Lane again to decide what renovations they would like done to the house. She had told the couple that she had been neglecting her correspondence, and it was an excellent opportunity to tend to it. It had taken a bit of convincing, but at last, they had departed.

She wrote to her family and to Rebecca Reed and Charlotte Collins, extolling the beauty of the places she had lately been and never once mentioning Pemberley or Mr Darcy. A substantial part of her morning was spent in her thoughts. She wondered how he was, whether he felt as confused as she did, and whether she could encourage Bingley to write to him and say that they would remain friends. It would ease some of Mr Darcy’s disappointment. If Miss Darcy was happier, given Elizabeth was no longer there, that too would gladden him.

Finishing a letter to her mother, she sealed it and went to the window, which overlooked the courtyard. It was bustling with people as always, with carriages arriving and departing in a seemingly endless procession.

With her mind so much on the Darcys, she dismissed her initial impression that a young lady in the street below resembled Miss Darcy. Her gaze remained on the unknown woman, although it was a leisurely regard. There was nothing that immediately made her especially interesting, but over the next few minutes, her behaviour increasingly worried Elizabeth. At first, it was because she appeared unsure what to do or where to go, and when Elizabeth looked for her companions, she could not spot any. Yet, a relation or servant or friend must be with her. She was evidently wealthy, from what Elizabeth could make of her clothing, and would not be unaccompanied.

Then, as Elizabeth continued to watch her, she became more and more convinced the young woman actually was Miss Georgiana Darcy! Her hand flew to her chest. No. It cannot be! What is she doing in Buxton? Where is her brother or the colonel?

Elizabeth hastily made her way out, excusing herself to a trio who were walking up the stairs as she ran down them. It took a moment to find the girl, and as Elizabeth approached her, she noted how dazed and frightened she appeared.

“Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth spoke softly. Miss Darcy’s wide eyes met Elizabeth’s, and she was breathing quickly. “Come, let us go into the inn. I am staying here with my sister and brother.” Elizabeth touched Miss Darcy’s elbow, her fingers barely making contact, to guide her in the proper direction. Fortunately, she did not hesitate; if anything, Elizabeth would have said she was relieved to have someone tell her what to do.

As they moved towards the door, they encountered Bingley’s valet, who had evidently seen Elizabeth leave from wherever he had been passing his time; he asked whether she needed assistance.

“My friend and I shall be in my chamber. I shall call you if you are needed,” she told him.

The man would recognise Miss Darcy, but Elizabeth saw no reason to mention her name in such a crowded locale. She smiled reassuringly at Miss Darcy, who had started when the valet spoke.

Silently, they climbed the stairs and entered Elizabeth’s small room. Jane’s maid heard them and, like the valet, asked whether she needed anything. Elizabeth dismissed her, then insisted Miss Darcy sit beside her on the edge of the bed. She desperately sought the appropriate words to say to the fragile young woman.

“I am surprised to see you. Does your brother know where you are?”

Tears pooled in Miss Darcy’s eyes, and she shook her head. Her voice sounded strangled when she admitted, “I-I-I left.”

“Left? Where are you going?” The questions had blurted from Elizabeth’s mouth before she knew what she intended to say.

A few sounds emerged from between Miss Darcy’s lips, but they were little more than stutters, and Elizabeth worried her exclamation had added to the girl’s confusion. Silently, she ordered herself to remain calm—or at least sound thus despite the rapid beating of her heart.

“Are you perhaps going to a friend or-or your aunt? But Romsley Hall is in Warwickshire, is it not?” Wherever Miss Darcy was intending to go, she would not be travelling alone. At the very least her maid or Mrs Annesley ought to be with her, but Elizabeth had seen no sign of them. Might the younger woman have been separated from whomever accompanied her?

“I do not know. I needed to—” Her voice was as squeaky as a hinge needing a good oiling. She grabbed Elizabeth’s arm with both hands, the movement so sudden, Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. “Please, no one must know where I am. You cannot tell Mr Bingley or your sister I am here.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to stammer. “T-they are out at the moment, but Bingley could return you to?—”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head vigorously. “I cannot go back. I shall find somewhere else. I simply left too quickly, without knowing where I should go, but I knew I must leave. But once I was here, I had no notion how to do anything. There was no one to help me, and some man— Oh, he was beastly! He said he could take me somewhere, but I knew I should not go with him. What do I do? I cannot go home.”

The more Miss Darcy spoke, the more agitated she became. Tears streamed down her face and fell unchecked from her jaw. Most alarming was the way her breathing became faster and shallower. Fearing she would make herself faint, Elizabeth lowered her voice until she was almost whispering and spoke with exaggerated calmness.

“Everything will be well. Follow what I do. Breathe as I do, Miss Darcy.” She inhaled deeply, only slowly releasing the air in her lungs.

It took what felt like a quarter of an hour and a great deal of coaxing, but at last her companion became less frantic. Elizabeth wiped Miss Darcy’s cheeks. She would have liked to go to the wash basin for a cool cloth to bathe the young woman’s face and ring for tea, but she did not want to leave her side just yet.

“Now, can you tell me why you left Pemberley?” Elizabeth took Miss Darcy’s hands in hers and kept her tone as sedate as possible.

Fresh tears began to spill from Miss Darcy’s red, puffy eyes. Fortunately, she did not entirely lose her composure, as she had come close to doing earlier. “I heard my brother and cousin speaking. I have ruined my brother’s life. He would be better off without me, but I know if I…if I hurt myself, he might never forgive himself. He would think he could have stopped me.” She gasped as though swallowing a sob. “I do not want to be me, to feel this way and see him and know I have taken everything from him, but I cannot do that. I do not want to die.”

Elizabeth said a hasty silent prayer at that admission.

“If I go away, then my brother will finally be happy again.” Miss Darcy wrenched her hands free from Elizabeth and began to strike her head, wailing, “I am so stupid! I cannot do anything correctly. All I do is injure others. Even in trying to free him, I failed.”

Shocked and not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth embraced her, trapping her hands where she could no longer hit herself. While Miss Darcy sobbed, Elizabeth continued to hold her, whispering soothing sounds and words. Never had she been more aware of what Mr Darcy and his family had to deal with, of just how ill the poor girl truly was. Despite her overarching concern for Miss Darcy, Elizabeth sensed her own anger—at what had happened between Mr Darcy and herself—lessen.

Shortly, she felt Miss Darcy’s arms around her waist. She began to speak of Mr Wickham.

“I told him my brother was coming to Ramsgate and I would inform him of our engagement. I believed my family would be happy for me, but he said my brother would never give his consent. I thought he was mistaken and insisted my brother ought to know. He claimed he was only concerned there would be a delay. It was because he loved me so much and needed to marry me right away. What if my brother and cousin said I was too young? We would have to wait years until I was seventeen or eighteen, and he could not bear that. Then he said he knew what would make them have to let us marry.”

She let out a long whimpering sound. “I did not know what he meant, but he asked me whether I loved him—whether I wanted to marry him and make him happy. I said I did. He had been so charming, did everything to convince me he truly loved me, despite me being so much younger than him. I was not like other girls. He-he said it was the only way, and he…he did things. I did not know what he would do to me. I did not like it, it hurt, and I wanted him to stop. It felt wrong, and I was sure it was, but he was so strong, and he said that I had to let him, that it would make me his wife, and that after telling him I wanted to marry him, I could not change my mind and say no. It would be too cruel, impossible for any man, but I did not know what he intended and-and…”

Mr Darcy had told Elizabeth much of what had happened after his arrival in Ramsgate, how he had informed Mr Wickham he would not obtain Miss Darcy’s dowry for years and that, regardless of what had happened between them, he would not force a marriage. Nevertheless, Elizabeth listened in silence as Miss Darcy explained it in fits and starts. She was distraught at present, and it must have been so much worse at the time. It was no wonder that Mr Darcy had been quick to do whatever necessary to bring his sister some relief.

After letting her cry for a while longer, Elizabeth made the girl look at her without entirely releasing their hold on each other.

“What he did to you was very, very wrong. He was unforgivably cruel and used you for his own gain. I can well imagine how easily he was able to convince you of what he wanted you to believe. He lied to me, and because he is handsome and charming, and I liked what he said, I did not question a word of it—and I was five years older than you were when I met him. The only person to blame in this is him. I know it, your brother, the colonel, your aunt and uncle, everyone familiar with the situation knows it—except you, and more than anything, I wish I could convince you.”

Miss Darcy’s brow furrowed, almost—if Elizabeth dared to believe it—as though she was carefully contemplating what Elizabeth had said.